


Work in Progress

by NightsMistress



Category: Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2712089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/pseuds/NightsMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The path of those chosen by the Powers never goes smoothly, especially when your choices can change the course of everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work in Progress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tekuates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tekuates/gifts).



> Thank you to mutuisanimis for the beta!

_July 2009_

This was proving to be the worst summer of Ronan’s life, and this time he didn’t mean it as hyperbole. Remembering events from the past was unsettling, and at the time he had thought he wanted an answer. Now that he had the answer, delivered by way of a kiss from a blow-in no less, he wished he’d stayed ignorant forever. After that particular revelation, everything started to move entirely too fast for him to keep up with. They had reached into the heart of a star and pulled out its core. The new container for the Spear had been forged. The wielder of the Spear had been found and tomorrow they were going to fight.

It explained the feeling Ronan had had for some weeks that something was coming for him he would not like. It explained the feeling that Ronan had had since Nita arrived that something was very wrong with him. It explained so much, and the Spear that Ronan held in his hands — as if it had always been there — seemed to answer to half only his questions.

The other half were answered by the Power that had made Himself known to Ronan. He should be more afraid at the moment. He knew that the other people chosen to wield the Treasures were afraid for him. He knew that Johnny was afraid of the effect that two Powers would have on Ronan — whether they would serve to protect him or tear him apart.

He knew these things, but as he held the Spear in his hands in the field where it was ensouled, these things didn’t concern him. With the Spear in his hands, he was no longer afraid of what was to happen to him. For someone who had spent the last few weeks increasingly afraid of what was happening to him and would be happening to him, it was a heady feeling.

 _Ronan,_ the Champion said, sounding worried. Ordinarily when the Champion spoke to him it was terrifying. It was a sign of how different he was and how his life was over as he knew it because now it didn’t worry him at all. Now everything was in place to make things better.

“I’m fine,” Ronan said, still feeling as if he was in a dream. The only things that felt solid and real were the Spear in his hands, and the Champion’s presence in his soul. Everything else felt very fragile. Reality itself felt as though it could tear around him like tissue paper, and if he let the Spear go, its point would do it. It could tear everything apart. He could rend everything around him and remake it new, if he just knew where to stand. He could remake Ireland, only properly this time. There would be no overlays anymore, and all it would cost is just one teenaged boy’s life.

 _Let the Spear go,_ the Champion said. The words fell over Ronan like a bucket of ice water and his hands spasmed open in surprise. The Spear fell onto his boots with a thud. Ronan didn’t even feel it. The trance had been broken, and now he was terribly afraid and couldn’t catch his breath if his life depended on it.

“What was that?” he said. “Why did it happen and how do I make sure it never happens again?”

 _That was the Spear’s true power,_ the Champion said.

Ronan remembered. He remembered the searing heat of Balor’s eye as it gazed upon their battered army of wizards, armed with their weapons of swords and skillets. He remembered the Spear failing to pierce the eye. He remembered the way that the Champion tried to convince him to finally let the Spear fly to its target.

He also knew that this had not happened yet.

“I don’t want it,” Ronan said. “I don’t want to be this.”

 _It’s going to be okay,_ the Champion said.

“Don’t talk to me,” Ronan said. It was almost a moan. “I don’t want you. I don’t want you, or this, or _anything_ like this. I just want everything to go away and unless you can tell me how to do that I don’t want to hear from you.”

_It won’t happen the way you remember it, the Champion said. You’re not able to remember everything._

“That doesn’t make it better,” Ronan said. “So not only do I get to remember things that haven’t happened, but I don’t even remember them completely? Are you trying to drive me insane?”

_It’s not something I have control over. You’re simply not capable of understanding everything, not and stay sane._

“Great,” Ronan said, miserably, as he wrapped the Spear in a pillowcase that he kept in his claudication to store his wizardry paraphernalia. “I’m going to die, and I’m not even going to understand it all until the end.”

The battle with Balor did happen as he remembered, but the Champion was right; there was more to the recollection than he remembered. Nita and Kit were involved to tip the balance in favor of letting the Spear fly, and had he known that part of him would still be himself afterward, he would have been less afraid.

* * *

  _September 2009_

It was uncommon for Irish wizards to visit the Moon, or indeed go outside of Ireland at all. Putting aside the complexities of the overlays, there often wasn’t reason for them to travel outside. As such, despite having been a wizard for some years, Ronan hadn’t come up with a reason to go to the Moon, and a reason was always expected.

Or it had been.

Now that he was haunted by a Power he never wanted, he simply just went, slipping through the overlays without disturbing them as if they had never been there in the first place, and teleporting to the Moon in one go. He didn’t even need to catch his breath.

The lunar landscape was alien to a boy who had grown up with the lush greenery that comes with almost constant rain. It was grey and dusty as far as he could see, with craters lying stark against the surface. He thought about taking a look around, but walking was difficult. There was a knack to it, he was sure, but he wasn’t sure what it was.

Instead of making a fool of himself further, he squinted at the Sun, shading his eyes with his hand and polarizing the bubble of air around him so that it reflected most of the light and radiation.

He knew very little about what the Spear was capable of. He knew that it was the embodiment of flame. He knew that it was what Lugh had wielded when he went to fight the Fomori. He knew that he was not Lugh All-Crafted, and it would be the height of arrogance for him to even presume to claim that name.

 _It wouldn’t suit you,_ the Champion said. _It’s better to keep your own name._

“Thanks for the entirely unwanted opinion,” Ronan said aloud. He knew that he could talk to the Champion in his head, but when he was alone he preferred to talk to Him aloud. It was easier to remember that the Champion was an external force forced on him when he spoke aloud to Him.

“What would happen if I threw the Spear into the Sun?” he asked, struck by impulse.

_You couldn’t do it._

“I could,” Ronan said, if only to be contrary. “I was asking what would happen.”

 _No one has thrown the Spear into the Sun,_ the Champion said.

“Then I’ll be the first,” Ronan said.

_What?_

Ronan leaned back, and threw the Spear. It arced out of his air bubble without slowing down, away from the lunar surface and in the general direction of the Sun. He could feel the Spear’s progress in space, if not in time, and he confirmed his suspicion that he would always, always know where the Spear was. It was not a comforting realization.

 _What are you going to do when it comes back?_ the Champion said.

“If it comes back,” Ronan said aloud. “I did just throw it into the Sun.”

 _It won’t go into the Sun,_ the Champion said. _And it always will come back to your hand._

Ronan frowned at this. He wanted to dismiss it as the Champion simply trying to reign in His current avatar and make him less of a failure of one, but it seemed more than that. He thought maybe he should ask about it, but past experience suggested that the Champion wouldn’t answer the questions he actually wanted answered. Instead, he said, “You should have said that.”

 _You know your mythology,_ the Champion said, deceptively mild. _You knew that it would happen._

“Just so you know, I’m not about to catch it,” Ronan said.

The argument was becoming more pressing as Ronan could feel the hot, focused presence of the Spear coming closer to him. He wondered what would happen if he didn’t catch it, or made any effort to. Would the Spear keep travelling into space? Could it hit Pluto? Could the Spear be responsible for inexplicable failing satellites?

While he considered this, the Champion lifted his hand and caught the Spear.

“Hey!” Ronan said. “What was that for? I could be missing a hand right now!”

 _It’s the Spear of Light,_ the Champion said. _You won’t be harmed by using it._

“It’s not the Spear I was worried about,” Ronan said. “More frostbite.”

 _Mere cold won’t extinguish it_ , the Champion said, almost amused. _And when it’s flames do go out, there’ll be more important things to deal with._

“Well,” Ronan said. “That’s just a wee bit foreboding, isn’t it?” He leaned against the Spear and considered the Earth below him. From this distance, everything looked so small and fragile. It was impossible to believe that down there, there were people fighting against entropy every day. Then he made a face; it wasn’t like him to get overly sentimental.

“You’re doing it again,” he said. “Waxing sentimental.”

_I’m not._

“Oh, believe me, you are.”

 _I’m really not._ The Champion sounded amused. _The view takes everyone that way the first time they come up here._

“I’m not everyone,” Ronan said. Still, that made him feel a little better.

He felt really small, looking at the Earth with the knowledge he had that it was far, far larger than it looked. If it was that small, then he was so irrelevant as to almost everything. It followed, then, that if he was so irrelevant, then the choice of the Spear and the Champion had to be wrong. It had to be.

“I have a question,” he said finally. “Is there a way that the Spear could not return to me?”

 _Yes,_ the Champion said slowly.

Ronan considered it. He could throw the Spear away and forsake the destiny it thrust on him, whether he wanted it or not. Chances were, with the Spear gone, the Champion would lose interest in cohabitating with Ronan. He could be himself, with only his own memories and experiences shaping him. It would mean turning his back on whatever purpose the Powers that Be had for him, but so far those purposes did not seem to be in his favor.

“Would I be free if I did?”

The Champion stayed silent, and it was that silence that decided the matter for him. He lifted his arm and threw the Spear. As the Spear left his hand, he could feel the peculiar tension that had compelled him to start this line of enquiry ease, and recognized it for what it was.

Then, with a dark, wry grin, he waited for the Spear to return. “Nice try,” he said. “But I know it doesn’t work like that. Greetings and defiance, fairest and fallen.” The Spear returned to his hand.

As he watched, an impossibly tall, androgynous humanoid appeared slowly before Ronan, draped in darkness and radiating a malignant glow. Ronan spared a moment to wonder what, if anything, his perception of the Lone Power reflected on his subconscious.

“You’ll find that it would have worked like that,” the Lone Power said. It smiled, and it was terrible. “That was your last chance to get rid of all these things you find so awful. Your little weapon, my esteemed little ‘Brother’, you had one opportunity to get rid of them both. You’re stuck with them now. By your own choice.”

“Yes,” Ronan said. “I can see how terrible it would be to have two Powers on your side.”

The grin widened. “It’s just us up here. You don’t need to pretend to be brave.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Ronan said, scowling. He could feel his face heat up as the Lone Power laughed at this, and his grip tightened on the Spear.

“It must be very sad being so scared of yourself,” the Lone Power said. It sighed in fake sympathy. “No, it’s worse than that, isn’t it? You know what the other avatars were like, and how they embraced the power to change their world. And you know you’re not up to scratch. In fact, you’re the worst match yet.”

 _It’s not true,_ the Champion said. _What you are for and what they were for are different things._

 _Thanks?_ Ronan replied. _Why is It even here? What does It want?_

 _What my Brother always wants,_ the Champion said. _To stop life. Don’t listen to my Brother, It just wants to rattle you._

“How do you even determine that?” Ronan said to the Lone Power, ignoring the Winged Defender’s sigh. “Is there a litmus test or something?” He shook his head. “Never mind that, why are you here? I’m not interested in listening to you. I know you have nothing worth saying.”

“That’s a shame,” the Lone One said. “But I’m sure you’ll work out what I was going to tell you. You’re very good at that.”

Ronan threw the Spear. The Lone One vanished before it struck. Ronan caught the Spear as it flew back.

“That was weird,” Ronan said. “Is that a thing now? I get the Lone Power show up for a quick chat? Because I’d really rather not.”

 _No,_ the Champion said, sounding troubled. That was almost worse than meeting the Lone Power. _That was unusual._

“Don’t get me wrong. Having the Lone Power show up and no-one dying is great. It should do that more often. In fact, how do we encourage that?”

 _Ronan,_ the Champion said. _What It said wasn’t true._

“I know that,” Ronan said, too quickly. “It’s just trying to mess with my head. And ruining my first trip to the Moon.” Still, he couldn’t help but turn the Lone One’s words over in his head, especially as It had told him that he would work out what It was trying to say. _Surely,_ he thought, _if I work out what it meant, I’ll know what I have to be wary about._

 _Don’t,_ the Champion said.

Ronan scowled. “Don’t go digging around my head. My thoughts are my own, okay?” The Moon had lost its attraction. “Anyway. We’re going home.”

* * *

  _November 2009_

The next thing Ronan had to adjust to was the visitors. Wizardry was not a solitary art, and collaboration was the name of the game. Advising, on the other hand, was a more novel experience given Ronan’s relative experience with wizardry. In fact, until Nita had shown up on his doorstep asking for his help, he hadn’t done it at all.

That changed once he understood why he remembered things he shouldn’t. Now, instead of it being a novelty that he found equal parts amusing and interesting, or at least he did at first, it was something commonplace and depressing. It would help if any of these people had come to see him. Instead, the person to be consulted with was the Champion.

This was shaping up to be another one of those visits.

His family had gone out for the day, but Ronan had begged off going on the basis that he had some errands to take care of at home, to the bemusement of his parents. Sometimes, he wished that he could tell his parents about what was really going on, so that he didn’t spend half his time at home cleaning up his family’s mess while they were out, but he was fairly sure that his parents would not take it well.

He had just finished putting on the last load of laundry when there was a knock on the door. “Coming,” he yelled.

His suspicions that today he had to be at home had been well founded. Today there were two teenagers on his front doorstep. One, the girl with short-cropped black curly hair who looked a bit younger than he was, and the boy looked a bit older.

“We need an advice,” the girl said.

“Uh,” Ronan said. “Sure. My parents aren’t home, so it’s fine so long as you don’t loiter on the doorstep. What’s up?”

The two looked at one another uneasily until the girl said awkwardly, “Well, it’s not really you we’re after.”

Ronan took a breath and held it for a moment. “I am the only wizard here,” he said, mild but with an undercurrent of annoyed tension. “I’m not sure who else could give you an advice. The nearest Senior’s down in Enniskerry, if that’s what you’re really after.”

“What we mean is that we need to speak to the Champion,” the boy said.

“We are kind of a package deal,” Ronan pointed out. “Get one, get the other.”

 _Let me talk to them,_ the Champion said.

_What?_

_It’ll be easier than talking for me,_ the Champion said.

Ronan had to concede the point. _All right,_ he said, _but I don’t like it._

With practice, the Champion’s possession of Ronan didn’t result in him being dissociated from his own body afterward. That was not to say that it was an enjoyable experience; Ronan still found the idea of his body being under another’s control nightmarish, even if the Champion did his best to keep Ronan part of the conversation.

 _How can I help?_ the Champion said with Ronan’s voice. It wasn’t the first time that the Champion had spoken aloud using Ronan, but it still threw Ronan off how alike and unalike they sounded. It was his voice, his accent, his intonation, but it sounded far older. Better, even. It wasn’t something he liked to think about overly much, but it was hard not to when it was happening right now, and he couldn’t in good conscience stop it.

He listened only with half an ear to what the other two wizards — Anna and Michael — were asking, instead being wrapped up in how much he really, really hated this. From what heard, it seemed that the seals weren’t playing nicely and that Anna and Michael just wanted the Champion to go down and sort it out for them. It wasn’t a difficult problem to solve, it just needed someone to listen and mediate the dispute about sunning spots. It didn’t need a Power to sort out, and consulting one just for that seemed like a waste of time.

What was obvious was that they were really here to talk to a Power. Ronan didn’t really see the appeal. The novelty quickly wore off when they were with you every moment of every day, observing everything you did and, Ronan suspected, finding you wanting in every aspect of your life.

 _Ronan would be a better advisor,_ the Champion said, startling Ronan out of his morose contemplation. _He’s far more familiar with them than I am. They trust him._

“Really?”

“Him?”

“Thanks ever so much for your confidence,” Ronan said, taking control back. “Yes, me. It’s not His specialty. It’s mine. That’s why you were directed to me.”

“Oh, sorry,” Anna said, making a face. “We just uh —” she let the sentence trail off as she squirmed.

Ronan knew what they thought. It was what everyone thought when they discovered that there was an avatar of a Power around. They didn’t say it. They didn’t need to. Ronan was acutely aware that his value was tied up in who he carried around and not who Ronan was.

“They just need someone to listen to them,” Ronan said. “You go in there to dominate them, you’ll end up fighting them, and some of those bulls are very good fighters. You’ll end up on the losing side.”

He gave them some suggestions about how to mediate the dispute and sent them on their way, before locking the door decisively and heading back to his room, before sitting onto his bed.

“Fabulous,” he said. “I’m a tourist attraction.”

 _That’s unkind._ However, the Champion’s words weren’t as chiding as they could have been.

“You agree with me,” Ronan said. “I am a tourist attraction now.”

_They just want help._

“And are dazzled by the easy option.” Ronan ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Look. We need some ground rules. On what we want to be.”

_Yes, I agree._

“If we’re doing anything, we’re doing it my way. I choose what … what we do. How we do it.”

 _Sure,_ the Champion said.

“You’re agreeing to a lot,” Ronan said.

 _I didn’t choose you to make you my slave,_ the Champion said. _I chose you because your choices are important._

“And what choices are those?”

The Champion stayed silent.

“I’m owed that,” Ronan said sharply. “If my choices are so damned important, I should at least get to know what the important ones are.”

 _You know I can’t tell you that,_ the Champion said. _They need to be your choices, freely made._

“I know that you’re here when I don’t want you,” Ronan said. “I know that you’re going to be here for the rest of my life, whether I want it or not. You want to tell me that my choices matter? That’s bullshit and you know it! The only way that my choices mattered was that it meant that you had some convenient way to get around.” He took a breath, holding it as he opened his hands from the fists that they had been balled into. “I don’t matter. I never did. And I think I’m entitled to be pissed off about that.”

 _You’ve been thinking about what my Brother told you,_ the Champion said after a moment.

“And not even my thoughts get to be my own,” Ronan said bitterly.

 _I said I wouldn’t,_ the Champion said, nettled. _I made a guess, based on what I know about you._

“Next you’ll be saying there’s something wrong with me,” Ronan went on. “Which there isn’t. I’m fine. I’m always fine. That’s what I do: be fine with whatever is done to me.”

_That’s not what this is._

“It’s okay,” Ronan said. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m okay with it. It’s what I’m for, isn’t it?” He let himself fall backward onto his bed and covered his eyes with his forearm.

 _There was nothing wrong with my choice,_ the Champion said. _I chose you._

“Can you leave me alone?” Ronan said. “I don’t want to hear it today.”

The next day he went out to the seal colonies to see what he could do to mediate. After all, it wasn’t their fault that Ronan was probably the worst choice for an avatar that he could imagine, and there were still things that he as a wizard could do.

* * *

  _March 2010_

After the intervention with the seals, Ronan tried to find more ways that he would be able to use the Art in small ways. He thought it was blackly funny — when he was first starting out all he wanted to do was to change the world and now that he had the power to do it, he had no interest whatsoever. He was the only one who found it funny. Most people thought it was terribly sad. He bounced from project to project, staying with one long enough to realise that the looks he was getting were not his imagination and then moving onto the next.

The latest project was based in France, which meant that Ronan had the advantage of also practicing his French while he was over there. It was, as he suspected, abysmal, and the Champion thought it was hilarious the way that he stumbled through basic conversation. He could use the Speech, but that tended to cause questions when multiple people heard him speaking different languages at the same time, and speaking French would come in handy one day, he was sure.

The work they were doing on new wizardry weaponry would definitely come in handy, albeit not with the same crowds that he would be speaking French in. At first he’d been reluctant to contribute overly much, but after the third session he had some insights that the others hadn’t come to yet, and what they were terming their hyper-scrambler was coming along nicely. He hadn’t joined in their jokes as they messed around afterward, and he wasn’t invited to their social outings later, but he was doing something useful.

The sixth session was when he realised that the looks the others were giving him were not in his imagination. His suspicions were confirmed where Sophia, the unofficial group leader, came to see him afterward, curling her dark brown hair between her fingers anxiously.

“You’re a good operator and a great asset.”

It was never good when the talk started off like that. “There’ve been complaints, haven’t there?” It wasn’t really a question, and the little flicker of pleasure that came with a job well done had been thoroughly doused by now. His now habitual dark mood settled over him like a familiar but rather unwanted coat, and he wanted to do nothing more than just walk out of the conversation and make it someone else’s problem.

“Not complaints,” Sophia was quick to clarify. “I meant it when I said we think you’re a great asset and good at what you do. The thing is …” She latticed her fingers and twisted them from side to side. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine.”

“Ronan,” Sophia said, and then sighed. “Lately, you’ve been even more edgy than usual, which is saying something.”

“I said I’m fine,” Ronan said, his voice brooking no opposition. Sophia backed down as he scowled at her. This was familiar territory at least; it was rare for someone to stand up to him. It was even more rare now. He was surprised to realise that he missed it. He folded his arms. “Who put you up to this?”

“No one put me up to it,” Sophia said, frowning. “I’m worried about this. Is something going to happen?”

Ronan thought about telling her the truth. He thought about telling her that there was something so large and oppressive that when he dreamed about it he woke up and forgot how to breathe. He thought about telling her that he didn’t understand what the Powers were telling him, and that as a consequence of that everything would end. He thought about telling her that the power of the Champion was hollowing him out and turning him into a grimly unhappy person.

“No,” he said instead. “If it is, it’s a while off yet.”

Sophia heaved a sigh. “That’s good, at least. My nerves can’t take the end of the world just yet.”

“You’re a wizard,” Ronan said. “The end of the world is our stock in trade.”

“That sounds really creepy coming from you,” Sophia said.

“What?”

“That’s not why you’re here, is it? Because we _have_ been wondering whether there’s something that’s going to happen — not soon but sometime — and you know about it and that’s why you’re here. Because the One’s Champion has to be here, and —” she cut herself off, but Ronan heard what she was going to say anyway: and you’re the way He gets around. If he had been unhappy before, he was furiously miserable now. Practice kept his emotions from spilling over as much as they might have in the past, but she still flinched at the emotional feedback.

“I just thought it would be interesting,” Ronan said. “But I take your point.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Sophia said, stricken. “I didn’t!”

“You did,” he said, turned on his heel, and teleported away to the Moon. Here, he still felt small, but it was a smallness that was comforting this time around. To be small and insignificant meant that you were not the fulcrum on which the machinations of Powers turned. To be small meant that your successes and failures affected only you, and when greatness is thrust upon you, your failures lingered longer than your strengths.

Ronan missed when his own flaws didn’t affect worlds.

 _Oh, Ronan,_ the Champion said.

“Don’t,” Ronan said, folding his arms and hunching his shoulders like armor. “I don’t need your pity.”

_She really didn’t mean it that way._

“Everyone means it that way,” Ronan said bitterly. He didn’t used to be so bitter, he thought. “It’s not unexpected. I am supposed to be doing great things, aren’t I? And here I am, doing what any wizard could be doing.”

 _You really should go back,_ the Champion said. _It was doing you good._

“No,” Ronan said. “No. If they’re spending their time wondering why I’m there they’re going to miss the important things and mess it up.” He didn’t say _I’m tired of messing everything up,_ but he knew that the Champion would hear it anyway. Even if the Champion wasn’t listening into his thoughts, they were literally living in a more intimate relationship than Ronan could ever expect to have whether he liked it or not. Fortunately, the Champion didn’t comment on that part, or at least not yet.

 _Try going back,_ the Champion said instead. He sounded regretful. _I never intended for you to give up your life for this. If you keep trying, people will come around to understanding that you and I are different._

Ronan snorted. “I was around as a wizard for years before you showed up. No, it’s not that. It’s that people aren’t really going to say that I’ve failed, not to my face. I wish they’d did. At least then I’d know.”

_You aren’t a failure. Stop saying that. It’s not true, and the reason why no one has said it to you is because it isn’t true._

“It is,” Ronan said. “I get it. I know what everyone expects of me. It’s what I would expect of me if I were them.”

 _Yes, we’ve covered this,_ the Champion said testily. _You really are your own worst critic. It would be impossible for anyone to judge you as much as you do to yourself._

“Shut up,” Ronan said sharply. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Sophia messaged him several times over the next two weeks when he didn’t show up for the group’s meetings. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to, she stopped. He told himself it was better that way. He didn’t need her waiting, heart in mouth, for him to do something to suggest that the end of the world was nigh. It was, of course, but not yet. He wasn’t ready for it yet.

* * *

  _April 2010_

The further they travelled from Earth, the stranger Ronan felt. Some of it was because he hadn’t been this far away from home. The idea of space travel had seemed ludicrous to him; when would he, an Irish wizard, need to go outside of his backyard, let alone to another planet? The other part was that the further they went, the more stretched he felt. For all the initial flush of power he’d had when he’d been appointed a Senior, it seemed like he didn’t quite have enough energy to do everything he needed to do. He seemed to be the only one affected this way; the other wizards were still pulling off wizardries that they ordinarily would have had no hope of pulling off. Ronan was able to keep up, but for the last nine months he’d been able to do more than simply _keep up_. He was so used to having the Champion’s power to borrow as well as his own and now that didn’t seem enough.

The others had gone into their pup tents for the night, leaving Ronan to stand guard with the Champion.

“I didn’t expect it to affect me this way,” he said aloud to the inky blackness of space, standing watch on a lifeless hunk of rock. He sighed wearily and scrubbed at his face. “How are you holding up?”

 _For the moment, I have enough power to do what must be done,_ the Champion said, but He didn’t sound confident.

Ronan frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

 _As the Pullulus spreads, my anchor here will weaken,_ the Champion said.

“Uh,” Ronan said. “Isn’t that me? Sure, I’m tired, but I’m not failing. Not yet, anyway.”

 _It won’t be you that fails,_ the Champion said. _It will be the wizardry that keeps me anchored to you._

“That’s …” Ronan started, and then trailed off. He knew that wizardry was going to distort and fail over time, but knowing it and believing it were two different things. Wizardry had been such a constant of his life for so long that the idea that it could wither and die was disquieting. He put his hands behind him and leaned back, staring at the night sky. Here, he could sense the Pullulus easily, as if it was a cancer spreading through reality, and he hated it. The Champion hated it too.

“We’re a long way from home, aren’t we?” he said, and yawned. “It would be awful to die this far away from home.”

 _That’s morbid,_ the Champion observed.

“Yeah, well, like I said. I’m tired, I’m a long way from home, and the universe is likely going to end in a week.”

_You can sleep. I’ll stand guard._

He thought about arguing with the Champion, but it had been a long day, and was going to be a longer week. “All right,” he said, and let the Champion take over.

He dreamed of a cavern he had never seen before, dark and oppressive, with a malignant presence almost suffocating him. He dreamed of a brilliant white light split into rainbows, of blood pooling onto the floor, and of the knowledge that everything here was as it should be.

“I don’t understand,” he said after he woke up. “What does this mean?”

_You’ll understand later._

Later, standing in the same cavern, the now depowered Spear clutched in his hands and the Lone One gleefully telling all of them how they had failed, Ronan thought he was beginning to understand. There wasn’t much time left. That hurt. Now, at the end of everything, he wanted more time to do everything that he hadn’t done. He wanted to tell his parents about his wizardry. He wanted to visit another planet in his home solar system. He wanted to find out what kind of adult he would be.

 _Are you ready?_ the Champion said.

 _No,_ Ronan replied. _But I never will be._

He reached his arm back, threw the Spear and waited for impact.

* * *

 Ronan knew, as all wizards knew, that what was loved, lived. He knew that after death, Timeheart waited for everyone, where everything imperfect had been perfected. It was the universe as it could have been, before death was introduced into it.

If the empty void that surrounded Ronan at the moment was Timeheart he was very disappointed. Alternatively, he had no loved ones and was unloved, which was more depressing than disappointing. He had hoped that in his life he had had someone who loved him. This frozen void wasn’t exactly what he had anticipated, though now that he thought about it, it didn’t feel like Timeheart was supposed to. Instead, it felt like everything had stopped in mid motion.

“Oh,” Ronan said, startled. “I’m in stasis.”

It made sense. He remembered Nita yelling at him, demanding that he stop dying, and he remembered ignoring her as best he could. He hadn’t done half the things he wanted to in his life. He hadn’t grown up, left school and got a job, had a family, maybe even become a Senior one day for real rather than temporarily. He hadn’t told his parents about who he really was, and all they would know is that he had disappeared one day. But he knew that his death was necessary. It had been what he was for, to die so that he could give the Hesper another chance to ascend.

It wasn’t what he had wanted, but it was a death that had meaning.

There was someone else here with him, a warm comforting presence like a fire tended and kept in a fireplace. They didn’t have a body as he did, instead a form of light and heat, but that wasn’t a surprise once he recognised who it was. He knew this presence as well, though it took him a moment to identify them. It was, after all, completely unexpected for the Winged Defender to be here with him, instead of wherever it was that Powers existed.

“Until the Pullulus is dealt with,” the Champion said. “Nita always was good at picking up what We mean.”

“Clever piece of work,” Ronan said, squinting. It covered him like a shroud of white-hot light if he looked at it the right way. That was something he was going to miss, he realised, being able to see things as a Power would, if he chose. “It’s not Nita’s design though.”

“It’s Darryl’s.”

“The Abdal?” Ronan laughed, wryly amused at himself as well as the coincidences of the universe. “You told him it’d be necessary, didn’t you?”

“I thought it would come in handy.”

“Yeah,” Ronan said. He didn’t say what he thought about it though, that he thought that it was unlikely to help. He remembered the Spear cutting and burning through his chest. He remembered the way that his heart stuttered as it pumped out his blood onto the floor of the cavern, how breathing had been so unbelievably painful, and how afraid, alone and cold he had been until he had felt nothing at all.

“It’s not futile,” the Champion said, and Ronan didn’t take up the usual argument of how he wished that his thoughts were private.

“It’s a bit late for that now, isn’t it? I’m dead.”

“Nita would disagree.”

“Fine,” Ronan said. “My heart’s stopped, I’m not breathing and until Nita yelled at me I was on my way to Timeheart. But, apparently, I’m _not_ dead.”

“Do you want to be?”

“No.” After a moment, he added, “I would have liked to be eighteen. I didn’t like seventeen much.” He sighed then. “What now?”

“I can’t tell you that,” the Champion said.

“You always say that,” Ronan said. “Can’t this time be the one time you don’t go all cryptic on me because you want to see what I’ll do?”

“No,” the Champion said. “I can’t tell you because I don’t know. What you do now is up to you.” It smiled then, and rested a hand on Ronan’s shoulder. It was the first warm thing Ronan had felt since he threw the Spear into himself, and he swallowed.

“Really?” he said. “So … what does that mean? I’m not dead?”

“No,” the Champion said. “You’re not. I hope you meant that you wanted to be eighteen.”

“And the rest!” Ronan said quickly. “Let’s not kill me on my birthday. That is a terrible birthday present.”

The Champion laughed. “You’ll have to remember that then.”

“Don’t worry,” Ronan said. “No heroics on my birthday. Got it.”

There was a spasm of _something_ in the nothingness around them. It hurt, but Ronan surprisingly didn’t mind. Pain was a novel sensation in the void, but as the pain faded, the sensation remaining was familiar, nestled to the left of his chest. Ronan pressed the heel of his hand against his chest, trying to work out just what it was.

“Wow,” Ronan said. “That’s _weird_.”

“It’s your heart restarting,” the Champion said. “Matt’s lifted the stasis.”

“Who?”

“You’ll meet him again next week when he checks up on how you’ve healed,” the Champion said. “He’s a good kid. Try not to annoy him too much.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Ronan said. “I’ll have you know that I am very personable when I want to be.”

“He won’t approve of your playing football before he gives the okay.”

“I just won’t tell him.”

His sense of time, at first shuddery and uncertain, became more regular as his heart rate settled into a normal resting heart rate. It was probably a sign that he was going to wake up soon, but now that the moment had arrived Ronan was loathe to go. Now, that everything had ended and he was free of the Champion, there was so much he had left unsaid, and so little time to say it all in.

“Thanks,” he said. He smiled, genuinely, this time. It felt strange and uncertain. He hadn’t realized that he hadn’t smiled —really smiled — for some time. “If you ever need another avatar for some reason, you could stay with me. I wouldn’t mind too much.”

“Thank you for the offer,” the Champion said, “but I think it’s time for you to define yourself for a change.”

“Before I go,” Ronan said quietly, half expecting the Champion to laugh, “I was okay, wasn’t I?”

“You were magnificent,” the Champion said, and then He had the audacity to laugh as Ronan flushed. “Go on and live your life.”

“All right, all right, I’m going,” Ronan said, throwing his hands up in the air. “If I didn’t, Nita would yell at me for being late.”

“She would,” the Champion agreed cheerfully. “I always knew that girl was going places.”

“Yeah, to make my life more difficult,” Ronan muttered. “It’s like I’ve traded one person nagging in my ear for another, and she’s a lot more persistent than you.”

Then, he closed his eyes and woke up.

* * *

  _May 2010_

A week on, and Ronan was still adjusting to the knowledge that he was not supposed to be dead. He had been welcomed home with a ride home, a shower to remove the blood caked under his fingernails and slicked to his back, and five hours of sleep. The shower helped with the grime and gore, the sleep helped a little with the exhaustion, and going back to his normal routine helped remind him that Ronan Nolan had existed before the Champion and would have an identity after the Champion as well.

He still dreamed sometimes of dying. He dreamed of the indescribable pain of the Spear burning its way through him, and when he woke up clawing at the air there was no Power to tell him it was not real. The silence was worse than the dream, leaving him to his own thoughts. He didn’t enjoy the experience. He was trying to be better about himself.

It was after one of those dreams that he got dressed and gone for a walk to the beach to watch the tide come in from the rocks. It helped. He might have died, he might have been the avatar of a Power, but life still went on. The tide came in and out, the wind still caught at him and tangled his hair into snarls, and he was still alive.

There was the peculiar pressure in his mind that meant that there was a message waiting for him in the Knowledge, one that he didn’t remember being there earlier. Of course, earlier he hadn’t been checking. He accessed the Knowledge and opened the message from Nita. It read: _I haven’t heard from you since everything happened. Are you okay now?_

He thought about answering that he was always okay, but now, looking back, he hadn’t been. Even now, he was not completely okay. There were a lot of things to sort out for himself, a lot of issues to address and resolve before he could really feel ‘okay’. He missed having someone around who was sure that everything would be okay, including him. He missed having someone who understood him intimately, in ways that he knew he could never expect to be understood again, and while he could try and reach out and make connections with people, it would never be the same. Besides, he didn’t know where to start.

Instead, he sent back to her _braaaaaaaiiins._

Nita’s reply was instantaneous, which was a little surprising given the time where she was. _I suppose you think you’re funny._

 _Yep,_ Ronan said. _How’s the zit? Keeping you company?_

_You are such a jerk!_

Ronan grinned. _I thought you were keeping it around on purpose. Otherwise you would have used the shortcut wizardry to get rid of it._ He then sent her the framework for the spell.

There was a dangerous pause. _Why didn’t you tell me sooner?_

Ronan had to laugh. _Maybe next time that’s the question you should be asking instead of nosing around asking about my feelings._

 _The assessment of your jerkiness remains,_ Nita said. _And now I will ask you how you are every time, and you’ll have to answer in the Speech._

 _You’re cruel,_ Ronan said.

There was a pause, and then, _I am glad you’re going to be okay._

He could hear Nita’s smile in her reply, the way that the corner of her mouth would dimple and the other corner would quirk upwards, how her head would tilt to one side as she did it. Before, when the Champion was with him, having her direct that wryly fond smile his way would have got his hackles up. Now, it just reminded him that he wasn’t quite as alone as he had originally thought himself to be. It was nice.

 _It’s a work in progress,_ Ronan said. _But you knew that already._

 _Yeah,_ Nita said. _I did._


End file.
